


282 - Van Lands in Your E.R.

by storiesaboutvan



Category: Catfish and the Bottlemen (Band)
Genre: F/M, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-23
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2019-05-27 07:28:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15019676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesaboutvan/pseuds/storiesaboutvan
Summary: An original mini fic about: misplaced bones, increasing heart rates, and pretty nurses.





	282 - Van Lands in Your E.R.

“I’m gonna need you to sit still,” you repeated, trying yet again to put the heart rate monitor on him. Given how difficult that task had become, you were already dreading the IV for fluids.

“An’ I gonna need your number, love,” he said, his voice the audible version of a smirk. The words were slightly slurred, heavy under the weight of the morphine given when he arrived in the emergency room, trying not to scream but nearly forcing himself to pass out in the process.

His case was one of the kinds that reminded you why you wanted to be a nurse in the first place. Gore. The guy’s radius had not only snapped clean in half, but it had broken through his skin, sticking out at an angle that was entirely unnatural and entirely horrific. Apparently, he’d fallen off something, jumped and misjudged the distance. He’d been under your care for less than ten minutes but already you had no doubt he was doing something dumb to land him in this position.

He’d been seen by a trauma doctor quickly. Although non-life threatening, breaks like that tended to freak out the other people waiting in emergency. They tended to freak out the patient too. He was stoic though, as he approached triage. With him was a friend, who answered the questions and kept looking over at his mate with worried eyes. The friend was asked to wait while the guy was taken through for treatment. “I’ll be right here, mate! You’ll be right! Just do what they say, yeah?!”

Away from anyone he knew, the guy’s mask came off. Tears rolled down his face and he turned a sickly white colour. You helped him onto the bed as the doctor took his arm. No point in an x-ray now. He’d have to have one just before surgery, which he undoubtedly needed. “Hurts,” he whimpered as the doctor put the arm in a temporary box splint.

“I know it hurts. Can you tell me how much it hurts on a scale of one to ten? One being no pain and ten being the worst it could possibly be,” the doctor said to him. She’d skipped the usual introductions, knowing the guy probably wouldn’t be comforted by them. The name of the game was pain relief.

“Ah… lots…” he said.

“Can you give us a number though?” she asked again. In your mind, his inability to focus or answer was enough of a response to her question. She stuck to protocol though, and for that you liked her.

“Eight. Nine. Just… hurts,” he said and again in a whimper.

“Let’s get you something for that then.”

The doctor held two fingers to his wrist then listened to his heart for fifteen seconds. He was trying to be still, but couldn’t help but writhe a little. You prepared the morphine injection, then handed it to her. The guy didn’t wince as the needle went in.

“Alright. We’re gonna get some fluids into you and give you a moment for the morphine to work. There’s nothing we can do for you here in emergency, so I’ll call up to the OR and I’ll pass you into their capable hands. Sit tight. You’ve done well, honey.” And she was gone.

There was a scream from the emergency room entrance that drew your attention away from the patient. He was stable and could wait, so you left his side for five minutes to lend a hand elsewhere. When you returned, the guy’s head was rolled back and his uninjured arm was held up, reaching for the ceiling.

“Hey there,” you said. He looked at you and grinned. “I see the morphine’s working. How’s the pain on a scale of one to ten now?”

“Love, I got my hand up,”

“Yeah, I see that. Why’s that?”

“Like in schooooool, innit? Need somethin’ so ya put your hand up. All ‘hello Miss, how are ya today Miss,’ ya know?” he said, laughing to himself.

“Okay, well, let’s give me this arm, huh? I need your hand for this. It’s just going to clip to your finger so we can measure your heart rate on the machine here. Doesn’t hurt at all,”

“You want my hand?!” he asked, sounding outraged. “Love! Do ya fancy me?”

“Would you sit still for just a second?” you asked. 

He laughed and twinkled his fingers at you. “You a nurse? You’re a real pretty nurse. Pretty and smart. Probably too good for me,“

"I’m not too good for your hand. Please?” You reached out for it again, but again he moved it from your reach. Having to be careful of his gory injury impeded most attempts to get his hand in yours. “I’m gonna need you to sit still,”

“An’ I gonna need your number love.”

Suddenly, he decided to hold his hand out to you. As you clipped the monitor on and prepared the IV drip, you glanced over at the guy. He’d gone quiet. He’d looked at his broken arm. Before talking him out of the shock of seeing his arm and processing it, you stuck the drip in. He flinched a little, but didn’t look away from the bone. Reading the plastic bracelet tagged to his wrist at triage, you were armed with his name and ready for round two of trying to provide medical care while dodging his flirting.

“Ryan?” Nothing. “Ryan, I’ve got you all set up here. Ryan?”

“Van,” he whispered.

“Sorry?”

“I'm… Van,”

“Oh. Okay. Van. I know it looks real bad, but it’s a clean break, which is good. You’ll be moved to an OR soon. Like, less than half an hour. Can I get you anything?”

The guy… Ryan… Van. Van looked up at you, grinning again. “Yeah. Ya number.”

Rolling your eyes, you walked away. Anyone that could be that cocky was more than stable.

Fifteen minutes later, you returned to Van’s side with a cup of water. He was sitting up, nursing his arm carefully and looking far more alert than he had when you left him. As you approached, you glanced at his vital readings.

“Hiya. You okay? Your heart rate has just increased a little…” you greeted, reading the screen more closely.

“Um. Bit fuzzy,” Van said meekly. You looked over at him.

“Know where you are? What’s happened? Here, drink this. It’s just water.”

You handed him the cup but the hand he raised was shaky. Like you would with any other patient, you kept your hand on the cup and let their fingers sit over yours. Van let you help him drink.

“Thank you,” he said when the cup was empty. “And… yeah… broke my arm,”

“Yes. You did. Think more than a couple of people took photos while you were spaced out on morphine. I imagine you’ll be all over the internet real soon,” you said with a smile. 

Van groaned. “That's… That’s not good,”

“Could be worse. Has the doctor come and talk to you?” you asked.

“Yeah. Said they’re moving me in 'bout ten minutes,”

“That’s good to hear. And how’s the pain, one to ten?”

“I don’t know how to give a number to it. Feels weird. I can only… like… feel some of it. It’s burning and it's… throbbin’,” Van tried to explain.

“Sounds about right. Well, they’ll knock you out when you’re up in the OR. So, sit tight and good luck, yeah?” Before you could leave, Van was speaking again and you had noticed his heart rate was higher than it should be. Interrupting him, you asked, “Are you sure you’re alright?” He went quiet as you took his healthy arm and held your fingers to his wrist.

“Ah… yeah, I’m fine, love,”

“Your heart rate… I might just go get-”

“No!” he said, sitting up quickly and immediately regretting it. He winced. “Fuck. Um. I’m really okay. Think… Think you’re doin’ that,”

“What?”

He grinned through the pain. If his cheeks weren’t already bright red from the whole thing, they would’ve started to be. “Think it’s a bit of that column A, column B thing, you know? Bit embarrassed 'bout before. Never would be so… like… like one of them flirty lads at the bar that don’t take no for an answer,”

“That was real specific,”

“Yeah, well, I ain’t like that. But column B is that you are… dead gorgeous. I can keep my mouth shut now but I can’t make that shut up,” Van said, pointing to the heart rate monitor. As he spoke to you, he was calming down.

“You know you’re cover in blood, right? It’s on your face and everything,” you told him, biting your bottom lip.

Van laughed. “I mean, it’s not my regular look, love… Unless you want it to be. You are a nurse. Might be into weird things like that,”

“Thought you said you weren’t one of those lads at the bar that can’t take no for an answer?” you quipped, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Don’t know if lads at the bar offer to cover themselves in blood daily,” he replied with a smirk.

One of the surgical residents arrived, unlocking Van’s bed quickly. “Alright, Mr McCann. Just got to check your wristband there… And, yes. You are you. I’m going to take you up to the OR and we’ll have that bone back on the inside of your body in no time.”

"Good luck,” you said and gave him a wink while nobody was looking.

“I’ll be back. Sober and clean,” Van called out.

“Okie dokie, Mr McCann.”

The rest of the day in the emergency department was just as chaotic as usual. By the time your shift was over, you were exhausted and totally ready for bed. And yet, you found yourself wandering up to the floor Van was sent to. It wasn’t completely out of the ordinary for you to follow up with patients that you’d cared for. The nurse at the desk greeted you with no suspicion.

“Hey. Ah, we sent a guy up here earlier. Radius sticking out his arm-” you started, ready to give more identifying details.

“Oh, yes. Van. Big personality that one. Flirted his way to a cup of tea and a bed while he waits for his cast to dry,” she said, with a roll of her eyes.

“Mmm. Doesn’t really surprise me. I updated his mate down in the ER when he came up here. Has someone gone and got him?”

“Yes. That one has also charmed his way to a cup of tea. Honestly. Pretty boys,” and then she tsked them in their absence. “If you want to drop by and say hi, they’re in bed seven.”

Van and his friend were loud. You wondered why nobody had told them to be quiet. Probably, someone had and probably, they had tried to change the volume of their voices.

When you appeared at the foot of Van’s bed, his face lit up. He looked different to how you left him. The blood was gone from his skin; it only remained on his black clothing. The colour was back in his face and he was on a dose of painkiller that helped but didn’t make him high as fuck.

“Mike, this is the nurse I was tellin’ you about,” Van said.

“Yeah, we’ve met,” Mike said, nodding his head at you. “Kept me up to date while you were off ya face,”

“Wait. Did you guys talk a lot?” Van said, looking from Mike to you.

“Oh, heaps, mate. We were thinking we’ll probably go out to dinner on Friday.”

Van looked supremely unamused at the joke. When you laughed a little, his attention was redirected back at you. “It’s nice to see ya. Whatcha here for?”

“Finished my shift. Thought I’d come sign your cast before I go home,” you said casually. “How long has it been on for?”

“Um. Twenty-ish minutes. Probably dry. Just got caught up in the attention of the nurses,” Van said, scrunching his nose up and looking at Mike with mischief in his eyes.

Walking around to the side of his bed, you gently took the blue cast in your hands to check. He probably could have left the hospital ten minutes earlier. Taking the sharpie out your back pocket, you were careful not to look up at Van while you wrote. You knew you’d lose your nerve.

“Is that what I think it is, love?” he asked.

“I don’t know what you think it is. If anyone asks, it’s definitely not my number. That would be unprofessional,” you answered, trying your best to keep your tone neutral.

“Right. Course. Looks to me like Mike just wrote a random string of numbers, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you agreed. When you looked up, Van was watching you, and for the first time all day you let yourself acknowledge how Goddamn beautiful he was. Infectiously happy. Gentle and pretty. Perfect jawline. Perfect nose. “I gotta go,”

“Okay, love. Guess I’ll catch you around.” His words and voice were laced with hidden meaning. You could feel it.

You smiled at Mike, looked at Van one more time, then left the space.

“His cast done? Can we kick 'em out yet?” the nurse behind the desk asked as you went by.

“Think you can probably do that,” you confirmed.

As you left the hospital ward, you could hear Van’s troublemaking voice squealing about getting a second cup of tea.


End file.
